


Going for Broke

by ScumdogSnev



Category: Degrassi the Next Generation
Genre: Aftermath, Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 01:48:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14154036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScumdogSnev/pseuds/ScumdogSnev
Summary: Dr. Albert Manning is a person with several regrets. Experimenting with his son's best friend's older brother (who's also an occasional patient of his) somehow isn't his biggest one.





	Going for Broke

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be an April Fools gag based on the fact that I keep writing Seaig fic, but ended up becoming an actual story, hence why I decided to post this now. Whoops. Both characters are pretty fun to write, to be honest. I might have Tracker and Albert star in something else again.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this... Somehow.

“Shit, man, I didn’t expect you to be such a beast in the sack,” Tracker groaned before letting out a high-pitched yawn.

Wasaga Beach’s finest freeloading bachelor rubbed his shoulder, trying to soothe the red marks left on his skin. After not getting a reply, he got out of bed and picked up his jeans, shuffling through the pockets. The young man grinned once he found what he was looking for.

“Hey, Doc.”

Albert snapped out of his shock once he heard him speak. “What?”

Tracker playfully dangled a small bag of weed from side to side.

“No. No, no, no, get that crap out of my house right now. Christ, as if sleeping with one of my patients wasn’t enough. I just had to end up spending the night with that pot-smoking biker who keeps coming back to the ER every two weeks for a broken bone in his leg.”

Albert groaned and reached for a cigarette on the nightstand as his partner laughed at him. Tracker walked over to him and plopped down on the bed, still as naked as the day he was born.

“You mind not smoking that? I hate the smell of tobacco.”

“Okay, five things. One, this is my house and I’ll do whatever the hell I want in it. Two--”

“You should be more courteous to your guests, Doc,” the biker teased, lightly flicking his doctor’s forehead before the latter gripped his wrist.

“Don’t cut me off, Scott. Two, don’t call me Doc. You’re my client, not my friend.”

“How about you don’t call me Scott? You don’t get to call me that, man. Besides, who the hell would be friends with a guy like you? Bet you fifty that you don’t even have any.”

The older man was about to leave his bed when Tracker trapped his legs with his own, not sure whether it was his restraint or the sensation of Tracker’s warm skin on his that made him clench his teeth. However, there wasn’t a chance in hell that Albert was going to let him have the upper hand.

“Pussy got your tongue, Al? Bet you another fifty that hasn’t happened in a while, neither.”

“Get out.”

Tracker’s expression became serious. “You lonely?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I screwed you because I wanted to try something different. Risky, even, but you’re the one who kissed me in the first place. I just went along with it.”

Albert shut his eyes, his brows furrowed. Tracker decided to dig deeper.

“You into guys?”

“...Occasionally, but it’s not like I’m romantically attracted to them or anything.”

The surgeon caught himself by surprise when he wrapped his arms around Tracker.

“Listen to me. I can’t stand it. I can’t stand being alone anymore. It’s all my fault she’s gone. It’s all my fault he hates me. They both hate me. God, I...”

He cupped Tracker’s jaw and kissed him without any of the passion he gave him earlier. It was such a pathetic kiss that the younger man had to pull away after just a few seconds but held him anyway, even when he started to cry. Tracker sighed and patted his doctor’s back.

“Looks like I’m gonna have to stay here tonight, huh?”

Albert began to regain his composure. “You don’t have to. This wasn’t even supposed to happen between us.”

“Did you have a good time, at least?”

“Can’t say I didn’t.” He cleared his throat, his voice a little stronger now. “If it wasn’t for the fact that your brother’s friends with my son, I wouldn’t have minded doing this with you more often.”

Tracker cringed when he realized just who he had sex with. “Ugh, that’s pretty fucked up, now that I think about it.”

“Definitely. Maybe we should just stick to me removing bone fragments from your bloodstream instead, huh?”

“Yeah. Not gonna lie, though, you’re pretty hot with your hair all messed up like that.”

“Don’t push your luck, Tracker,” said Albert with a hint of a smile. “This isn’t happening again.”

Tracker ruffled his surprise one-night stand’s hair. “You sure you don’t want one more for the road? We’ve still got time.”

“No, we should keep talking instead,” declared Albert, fully grinning now as he gripped the other man’s wrist again.

“Do you, now? Why’s a guy like you trying to talk to a guy like me? I can’t even afford a tenth of the shit you have in your house.”

“Talking to you about my problems is... Therapeutic, I guess. I don’t know.”

“Look, man, I’m not gonna spend all night being your fucking shrink,” warned the younger man before getting up to put his worn-out Doors tee back on.

“Like hell, you aren’t. You’re in for the long haul tonight, Scott. Go get us two glasses and that bottle of Rémy Martin from the kitchen.”

“A bottle of what? Speak English, ‘cause I don’t speak shitty French wine.”

Albert smirked. “What if I told you that ‘shitty’ French wine was also brandy?”

“...You know what? Keep your hundred bucks. I’m definitely up for that.”

“What the-- What hundred bucks?”

“Wasn’t I on the money when I said that you don’t have any friends and haven’t gotten laid by a woman in years? I bet you fifty on those two things earlier, but it’s cool. Besides, getting wasted on brandy with you beats taking your cash any day.”

Albert rolled his eyes. “Yeah, especially since me being out cold would make it easier for you to rob me the morning after, right?”

There was a beat before both men burst into hysterical laughter. They didn’t realize how much they needed an emotional release; neither one had felt that good in a long time.

“You’re the worst, Al,” the biker said before walking out the door and disappearing into the hallway, still wearing nothing below his shirt.

“Call me Al again and I’ll kick that sweet, sweet ass of yours.”

“You wish, Doctor Sick Fuck,” he taunted from the middle of the staircase.

The surgeon sat up and finally lit his cigarette. He took a drag of it and puffed the smoke out of his nostrils, chuckling at the thought of Tracker’s reaction once he’d start to smell the smoke. Albert couldn’t wait to correct him on his misjudgment of his sex life via his little black book in the nightstand drawer, but knew it wouldn’t matter in the long run. It felt good to take a break from being a completely reprehensible human being; something told him that his temporary friend felt the same way, too.


End file.
